Crossing Boundaries
by Phoenix13
Summary: What if Bruce Wayne was 'Catman', and Selina Kyle was 'Batwoman? This is a short role reversal fanfic.


Crossing Boundaries

AUTHORS NOTE: This is my first Batman fic. I usually write Transformers fiction.

The idea of Batman/Bruce Wayne switching roles with Catwoman/Selina Kyle in something like an alternate universe has been nagging me for a while. I have tried to turn Selina into the foreboding, dark bat persona 'Batwoman', and Bruce into the risk taking, sensual cat guise, 'Catman'.

Wether it works or not, at least its out of my head. LOL

Selina Kyle paused on the roof of Gotham Plaza and frowned at the new apartment tower a block from where she was standing. Her cape hung limply. No breeze tonight. The half moon in the night sky barely whispered its touch over the bat insignia upon her black armored cleavage. This new building was tall, shiny, covered in random bits of metal and other obscure architectural features that marked the latest batch of up-to-the-minute-city-living apartment blocks. Out of touch with Gotham's more usual goth-built structures.

The thing she DID NOT like the most was the penthouse. Expensive. Luxurious. Clad almost 360 degrees in glass, the interior gave a wonderful display of invaluable 'must have' art pieces, all lit up with movie level acceptable lighting. She could smell the money used to buy the very prominent Van Gogh painting from her vantage spot.... Catman would be drawn to it in his sleep.

Money didn't faze her. She had plenty of her own. Kyle Manor or KyleTech were monuments to that. This, however, was stupid money. And she would be forced to defend it, just for being the proclaimed Batwoman. This city was her own and that included all occupants, stupid or not.

Her eyes became slits as she turned away to continue patrol. No doubt Catman would be marking his scent around the place shortly. She'd swing past it in another hour or two, and maybe the cat thief would be giving it the paw over. She turned away from the tower, darting it an unhappy glance over her shoulder as she left.

Catman - Bruce Wayne - balanced on the snouty nose of a stone gargoyle, fifty storeys up. His boots crunched into the masonary of the poor stone creature.

Standing still, he crossed his arms over his chest, letting one hand reach up to scratch at his chin as he thought silently. His mouth began to turn up at the corners and he propped his hands on his hips. He paused a moment more, then reached down for the black cord rope hanging from his waist. His palm squeezed around it comfortingly and his knees bent, causing the gargoyle to emit a tiny stone creak under his weight. He prepared to leap – and found his feet whipped dramatically out from under him so he fell head first down the side of the building.

He fell end over end through the air, in shock. Before two seconds were up he was body slammed hard and he was staring down at the ground below over someone's shoulder as he was drawn sharply upwards. His eyes were then covered by a large black cape swirling up from the body he had slammed into as his descent began again.

"Ugh!" was all he could mutter as he was dumped hard on his butt. Quickly he rolled to his feet and stared up at his attacker and rescuer.

"That building is off limits to you," a low feminine voice demanded curtly of him.

Batwoman! Bruce's senses all perked up, "What does that mean to someone who doesn't have any limits?" Bruce said in an equally demanding quick reply, always ready with a comeback. Especially against her. He took a few steps in reverse to put space between them and struck up a quick grin.

Batwoman's silence stung the air. Her eyes were staring at him with a hardness to match the disappointed curve of her mouth beneath the cut of the mask that crossed her cheek. Her cape was obscuring her arms and most of her legs.

He wasn't afraid of her. Mostly. There was a tiny flint of fear he kept in an unused corner of his brain, and it was kept bolted down by his curiosity and desire. She was really something, this Batwoman.

"Stay away from this place, your next mid-air landing won't be so light," Selina uttered harshly, and swung herself around on one foot to the edge of the roof they were on. Her cape swept back as her arm raised up to propel a cable – and Catman's whip snapped out to hit her hand, but Batwoman dropped her wrist too fast for it to hit. She swung back, and almost overbalanced when her body came up against Catman standing chest-to-chest with her.

"Is that a new lipstick you're wearing? I preferred the previous one," Catman purred at her in a deep monotone, nose to nose with his foe. She stood stunned, head leaning back to stare wide-eyed at him.

His hands latched onto her upper arms to hold her to him but she ducked under his forearms, grabbed his thigh, jerked it savagely upwards and stunned him motionless onto his back. He lay there, considering his position – and his pain.

"So, gasp you're not into cough uh, a bit of nighttime canoodling then?" Catman said, his tone bouncingly light. Batwoman stood over him, her mouth open in a snarl. She stared down at him and he got up onto his elbows, smiling at her. She felt a muscle jump in her chest at his determined happy grin. The thought went through her mind that he was really quite a devastating man to look at. His physique was as toned and strong as her own. Her eyes ran the length of his stunning body covered in skin-fitting black leather. He was a very capable man. And an even more capable thief....

Bruce twitched an eyebrow under his mask, flitting his eyes between her face and her beautiful protruding chest with the bat symbol balanced on top, "No more words for me, then? Run out of ultimatums for naughty badboy thieves?" he asked as her lips and eyes slowly relaxed into a blank expression.

She dropped her head down and turned away from him with a whisk of her cape. She took a dive off the roof before he could attempt anything more. He heard the snap of her cablerope as she swung away.

"Dumped again," Catman sighed to himself and let his elbows collapse so he was lying flat, staring up at the stars. He hadn't been all that interested in the damn building. It didn't have the type of art that interested him. He had a new interest. An interest which was centred on a lovely – but aggressive – lady, dressed like a bat and swinging on the end of a rope.


End file.
